part 2 Two months after divorcing my wife, I found her sitting alone in a hospital hallway wearing a patient gown

Linda had always enjoyed standing by the front garden in the evening, especially when the roses were in bloom. But that day, she was not looking at the flowers. She was staring at the locked gate like someone had told her she no longer belonged behind it.

I parked my truck, got out, and said, “Linda? What are you doing out here?”

She turned toward me, and I saw her face.

My wife of thirty-eight years looked humiliated.

In her right hand was a small paper bag with bread, milk, and a bottle of her heart medication. Her purse hung